


Integrity

by bestwithalisp



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Blood, Cunnilingus, F/M, Torture, also ash play, blaster play?, clothed male, dubcon, naked female
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 09:59:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6749107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestwithalisp/pseuds/bestwithalisp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are a spy for the Resistance, working with the Guavian Death Gang.  When an unexpected turn of events happen, you find yourself in the clutches of Kylo Ren himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Integrity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kassanovella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kassanovella/gifts).



> So this is basically horrific filth I wrote for a friend who is equally, if not, more filthy that I am. Hope you enjoy it!

The caverns had become a secondary home ever since you gained the trust of the Guavian Death Gang. In the midst of an ongoing contract along with a hefty monetary promise should they find remnants of the Empire, they shipped you deep into the orifices of the Jakku caves to recover something–anything–relating to Luke Skywalkers location. There was, however, one thing you failed to mention to these members–your undying loyalty to General Organa herself, promising to return whatever information recovered to the Resistance Base. 

You were given a small shovel, a brush, and a pick to work at the hardened walls of sand that thickened after each storm. Along with your tools of trade, you were also ordered to wear a face mask attached to a breathing apparatus when the air became too dense for fully-functioning breaths. Today was no exception, as you were directed deep into an unstable opening. This place was notorious for dust storms, collapsing wide expanses into nothingness, burying them in ancient sands, prompting the lower-class Gang members to start digging from the beginning of their work. The weather was far from ideal on this occasion, but you had swore to sacrifice yourself for the rights of democracy, so this was the unfortunate price you paid. Mask at the ready, you were transported to the entrance, thankful to see the tunnel still in tact, your feet pacing slowly to the man-made wall. The ground was particularly unstable today, rumbling slightly almost threatening to sink from the weight above it. Your steps became lighter while you swiftly attached the mask and hood around your face, tapping in the oxygen sequence key on the side of your face and hearing it hiss shut against the collar of your garbs. One hand held up to graze across the rocky face, while you watched bits and pieces of it’s chipped face crumble under your palm. It was more than likely this space would not hold out until nightfall but you made an educated guess leading up to this point, predicting there would be substantial evidence inside this desolate cave to the lost Jedi’s whereabouts. 

Working your way in, shovelling sand and dust to form paths, you began to pick gently at the wall where it seemed to hold more integrity than the entrance. Small rock and dust fell gently behind you with each tap of the opposing wall. Now you knew you would have to be careful. You picked apart a small pathway which lead to an opening. This wasn’t the same type of hallway you were used to, it seemed to have been made before it was corroded into a forgotten heap. There was hardly any sunlight left to guide you, while dust was quickly settling behind your tracks where you had plowed. The overhead was getting shorter while the walls closed in, forcing your figure to shrink while you walked along the hall. 

Then it stopped.

You came face to face with a blunt wall, but not before stepping on something that cracked under your feet. You shifted your hip and pulled your foot up to look under it. Below the rubber of your boot lay two decomposing bodies, their flesh almost completely destroyed, save for lingering pieces of skin around tightly bound fingers. Your eyes moved to whatever was left of their skulls, one of them had a newly placed boot wound to the jaw from where you had stepped. Someone had tried to recover this before, but never made it out. Your eyes flicked up to the wall again, churning over the hardened dust, your eyes raking over a small hole which wasn’t uniform to the rest of it’s sedimentary style. You backed up, gazing over the space where the bodies were, hunching down to hover over the body closest to you. One of their hands rested on an small black object, and you leaned down to reach under his fingers. You were suddenly thankful for your oxygen mask, filtering any putrid scent of decomposing bodies. You rubbed the length of your forefinger along the top of the metal piece. The tip of it bore electric inducers, needing coupling by a droid or another section to function. You turned the object to it’s opposite side where a small logo was present near the bottom, the Rebellion crest from decades prior. For a split second you were joyful in this hellish existence of carving out pathways. 

Forgetting that the cave was shrinking above your head, you rose up too quickly, head making an small implant in the curved ceiling. Dust fell and settled on top of the corpses while you let out a small sigh of relief, but it was short lived as you heard the rumbling coming from above, your vision distorting under a magnitude of rocks slipping from the roof while the walls began to collapse inward. You hadn’t witnessed a collapse like this, shoving the small object into your pocket, while you reached for your pick, falling back to crouch around the lifeless bodies and hoping your aged oxygen tank around your neck wouldn’t crush from the wreckage constructing it’s own tunnel around you. 

The movements were becoming further spaced, and the rage of the quake was settling, it’s rumbles more intermittent. Your nerves were shot, wondering exactly how you would work your way out of this one. You were just able to look down and see that your elbows had created a wide enough hole around you to reach and grab your Com to contact the Resistance Base, your secondary one given to you by the gangs party leader was pushed too far up against the newly-formed wall. You unlatched it, and slid it over your thigh, flicking the side of the pager up, and holding the large button while you formed garbled words,

“I’ve recovered a navigational piece that could potentially lead to Skywalker, but I’m trapped in a collapsed cavern outside of Second Base on Jakku. Sending co-ordinates”

You began to speak the numbers, and twitched your thigh slightly, the pressure of the sand a sudden realization of your uncomfortable position underneath it. As you pulled away, there was a bright red flash that repeated itself three times over. 

Shit.

The pager given to you by the Guavian Death Gang was situated on the outside of your belt, the large voice over button protruding from the front and you had just inadvertently given them access to both the piece that you found and your non-compliance to their orders. You knew there was no possible way for the Resistance to reach you by this point, leaving only the current occupants outside of these walls to recover you, likely killing you in the process.

You sat there, tears beginning to flow under your face coverings as you heard axes picking angrily above you, a small hole forming above your head. An alien hand pulled you from the dust–your chauffeur to this place–his swelled digits raking you over the barren planes of rock and sand. You were thrown face-first to the feet of the Bala-Tik, who pushed his foot over your shoulders, holding you still while two of his men searched your pockets. You felt the weight of the object lighten against you, suggesting they had made a successful recovery. A thickly-accented voice ordered the men above you,

“Take the artifact back to the village elders for evaluation, the First Order has given the code to keep the traitor alive. Bring her back to The Finalizer for further assessment,” 

He leaned down to grab the fabrics at your back, dragging your chest across the ground and into the cargo shuttle. He threw you into a space commonly used for recovered items, and it seemed as though you were that item this time. 

You were hoping the travel would take longer, terrified of what your fate meant, knowing it more than likely would end in death. you were urged onto your feet by several Stormtroopers, blasters checking your shoulder and back while you gazed up at the harsh features of the hangar. From here, you were taken along a wide hallway, open blaster doors every few metres or so, until you came to a halt near the entrance of a room loosely furnished with an upright chair decorated in straps to hold you in place. It was difficult to tell from behind the grime of your head gear, but it looked almost as though the rumors were true; the First Order had it’s own means of torture. Any training you were given to endure this was floating into your mind rapidly, wondering if the rumors were true, if there really was a figure on this ship who could pull your innermost thoughts from you. 

The thought of it was crumpling your sense of bravery for the Resistance, and out a panic, you braced your foot on the floor, freeing your elbow slightly to upper cut the Stormtrooper grasping your shoulder. The second guard moved quickly and clutched your offending arm, and you spun to knee him against his armor to no avail. The angered trooper grabbed his blaster, raising it high over his head colliding it with the side of your cheek, knocking you through the blaster into the room. Out of reflex you grasped your face, the constant ring of your ears not subsiding, a long cut matching the side of the blaster, reflected on your face, as you sunk backwards into the room. You came to your senses while you edged backwards, knowing you were cornered here, like a wounded animal prepared to attack anything that came at you. One slow step further and you were feeling your rear pressed up harshly against a warm table, pressing the palms of your hands into it, the burning sensation of the top was more of a surprise than the pain it held. Or perhaps it was that the shock from your face was evaporating, pulling the pain to that wound instead. You moved your hands from the edge, rubbing the back of your hand against the cut highlighting your cheek when you heard the setting of the blaster click, the trooper aiming somewhere around your head and your chest, firing it’s beam before you had any time to think. You shut your eyes, pinned your hands back to the table and leaned over the burning table, bracing for the penetrating pain of the weapon.

Then it stopped.

You opened your eyes and the shot was hovering–frozen–against the pulsing vein of your neck, singing away fabrics of your neck coverings. The static of the blaster was held suspended, green and threatening. You tried to slip free but for how close the blaster was, the ridges of your neck would graze the merciless laser. Your only option was to back away right into the strange heated table you were clutching. You had only flicked your eyes up for a moment and noticed the guards responsible were nodding their heads to a looming figure, his presence alone was enough to chill you against contrasting heat. A raise of his index finger and the door slid shut behind him, beginning a slow and calculated stride closer to you. You braved the searing heat, using the steel under your grip as leverage to pull yourself up, but in one swift movement, you were immobilized, helpless and cemented, palms pressed into ruthless metal. Panic was beginning to consume your mind, thoughts of your training in this event were dissipating quickly as the lifeless body edged toward the green light. 

You were facing woven fabric, tightly stretched across the expanse of it’s seemingly powerful chest, layered armor draping over muscular biceps. Shaking hollow breaths elicited from you were coupled by another noise, almost matching the heave of your lungs but it wasn’t human…it was static. You worked your eyes upwards as best you could–given your stalled position and headgear–noticing a piece a black snout sprawling into chrome features which adorned the cheeks. He was the person you were warned of while on the Resistance Base; the creature in a mask who could grip your innermost thoughts, break you into a traitor against your every attempt at fighting. 

“I should be thanking you,” he was speaking to you, his voice distorted by a modulator, his sway halting just before you, “had you been born with an ounce of integrity, you would have been praised for your actions”

He was towering you by this point, watching your figure twitch against his power as he raised a palm and curled his fingers inward, a sudden pressure clasped around your neck and you realized he was choking you. 

“This is the price you pay for negligence. I’ll stop when you provide me the whereabouts of your assigned base.”

His hand pulled back slightly to his torso, dragging you forward like an invisible rope, the blaster tearing through the remainder of your fabric, the tip stinging into your neck while your blood began trickling through the pores of it’s intrusion. You shrieked as you were being gradually impaled and he noticed your pitch, dropping you back towards the table. Your arms gained motion again, his grip releasing you, but all you could do was stay in a petrified state, your arms turning to gelatin in the wake of being immobilized.

“Remove your headgear,”

You couldn’t bring yourself to obey, too transfixed on the blaster that seemed to be nearing closer with each second you stood still. His voice sounded again,

“This isn’t a suggestion. Remove your headgear or I’ll see to it that you’re incinerated in this room,”

Incinerated? 

Your shaking hands pulled forward from behind your back, nervously working as the fasteners underneath your neck, carefully dragging it over your head, ensuring no other body part was harmed. You dropped the headgear haphazardly at your side, your eyes working up to see the empty holes of his mask. Conscious of your bare face being shown, you tried to project brave visage, despite him already noticing your crumbling limbs. You could have been sure you heard a small sigh puffing through his mask, even though his reaction was expressionless. 

Moments of silence passed and you came to the conclusion that he was thinking about how to gain information from you–or was he calculating a way to kill you? 

“I may have thought of a better use for you,” his words broke your thoughts as he advanced on you again, his hand working it’s way through your hair neatly until it reached just near the end. His fingers wrapped around the tendrils, twisting it up to your scalp, wrenching your head backwards towards the table. You back cracked at the sudden jerk as it leaned further arch over the heated expanse. You felt a trickle of blood roll off your cheek and onto the surface below you as a result of the new angle and the sound was unpredictable–a crackle, hissing as it caught the liquid, but your head was in a vice grip, too tight to turn yourself towards whatever was below you. Another familiar feeling was working it’s way closer to your neck during this point, the realization was upon you that he had inched the laser blast close to you again. 

With his free hand, and without breaking his gaze on you, he began unhooking the small buttons on your shirt. You tried pushing yourself away, your hands pinned slightly behind your back from this angle, horror blanketing your rattling chest,

“This is fucking disgusting, even for someone like you,” you quipped at him, while he freed your front of it’s restraints. You felt his hands work from your neck down to your breasts, where he took two leather bound fingers, pinching your nipple roughly before landing a harsh smack down on the sensitive flesh. 

“I could force you here, stuck against this table, but I prefer to watch you shake while I work out your answer,” his hand was skimming down the hem of your trousers by this point, his body was pressing directly over you, his face at your neck, taking caution of the laser threatening to break skin again. Whatever his…personal…need was, he was eager to get it. As he dipped his hand underneath your garments, you remembered your training,

Whichever tactic he uses to gain your compliance, grant him access and we will change course of action.

This couldn’t be what was meant. He mapped your flesh, grazing your folds gently with the ridges of his glove, his middle finger swiping repetitive vertical lines up your slickening heat. 

You heard a low chuckle vibrate from him while he spoke,

“Even your own body betrays you. Is there an ounce of you who isn’t a traitor?” his digits hooked under the hood of your clit, and you bucked slightly too far, your neck hitting the beginning of the blaster, a stab instantly hitting the vein and you could feel a second stream of blood flooding from you. The reaction caused your head to fall back, the crown of it harshly smacking against the table causing a cloud of dust to kick up around you, particles burning your hair and flesh while you sputtered. 

“What is this?” you were coughing at the grey smoke entering your nose, but he didn’t pay attention, instead working his way into your heat, giving you only the slightest of shrugs as a response as he answered you with another question,

“Where. _Is it_?” He was collecting juices from your entrance and working them up to your clit. 

You were writhing against the struggle to breathe, the dust was enveloping any method of oxygen, but you managed to sputter out,

“You’re a…you’re a _monster_ ,”

A long sigh rolled off of him while he pulled his mask away from your neck, his weight was lifted from you, along with his questioning fingers only to loop around your bottoms and panties, forcing them down to your ankles, baring yourself entirely before him. He dug his thumbs into your thighs, pulling them into the opposite direction as far as possible while still bound by your clothing at your ankles, before rising back to his full height. You couldn’t tell if he was angered due to the lack of expression of his mask but you could tell there was a feeling behind it. His hands reached for the locks under his helmet, an echoed click followed by a hiss from either side of his neck as he pulled it from his face. He stared you down blankly, nearly considering your last comment. You had struck some sort of emotion in him, and his expression was the calm before the storm. 

You suspected you were shaking for several different reasons–one of them being the impending fear of what he could do, another being the pain of your scalp, face, and neck being singed, stinging and burning from several areas, and third was the fact of your body feeling arousal to this…demon. You had felt such hatred, yet you couldn’t help but be curious of his questioning. You felt a shot of bile erupt from your throat, and you tried to think about anything else. He moved to lean over you now, your heart pounding so hard you thought it would be visible through your ribcage, curls falling past his shoulder while he looked down on you. His dark eyes locked onto you while he replied to your insult.

“I am a monster,” he swiped his thumb across the blood that began to creek on your face, bringing it to your lips. His voice was gentle, low and rough while he continued, “sometimes I wonder how many Resistance deaths were needed,” he forced your lips apart, making you taste the iron of your own flesh. You went to bite down, but the muscle in his finger hooked under your front teeth, drawing them forward. He brought the laser blast to graze your neck as punishment while you shuddered under him. He worked his way back in, coating your tongue with the potent liquid, “I wonder how many I needed to kill”. When he was satisfied, he pulled himself away, one hand pressing your head to further burn, and his other into the dust below you, finally finishing his statement. 

“I wonder how many like you were slaughtered to adorn this table,” your gaze caught his hand drawing up, cupping a small amount of ash in his fist. The churning realization made you nearly spill the bile at the back of your throat. 

You felt small dribbles of ash fall over your chest, working their way up to the skin of your neck, stray pieces catching in the wound from the blaster and you winced at the stinging that it created. He allowed some pieces to fall from his hand before getting to your lips, his hand finally empty of the embers, save for the smaller particles stuck to his gloves. 

“Tell me, how do your fallen comrades taste?” 

You narrowed your eyelids, opening more willfully to his touch, the taste of ash was evaporating any moisture in your mouth, the pure burning taste of death on his fingers, as you sucked the ash clean. 

“You’re disgusting!” you sputtered as his fingers left you.

You saw his pliant lips turn into a smirk, while he reached for more the hot cremation behind you, his hands grazing stray blood around your neck while he rubbed it together between his fingers in a disgusting concoction. His other hand lifted your neck to feel the heat of the shot, and he sunk to his knees carrying a fistful of burned human flesh. You felt two of his fingers part your folds, a rough substance trickling over your clit while he spread blood and ash with his index finger, ensuring his work was thoroughly completed. Each time he swiped over your swelling nub, your body would turn against you. It was enjoying this sickening treatment. His fingers left your cunt, the moisture holding the ashes to it, while you felt his hands dig into your hips, dragging you forward. 

“Could you name any of them?” you felt his words against your flesh, followed by a quick swipe up your folds with his tongue. His breath was hot on you while he spoke again, “I wonder how they would feel, knowing their flesh is now grazing the most intimate parts of your cunt” he flicked four horizontal stripes over your clit, while you let out a defying sigh, “Knowing that the monster who murdered them salivates their burning body”. 

Disgust mixed with pleasure was feeding your arousal. Unable to move, you relaxed yourself slightly against his merciless tongue. You slowed your breathing as best you could, the bubbling of heat retreating near your neck, feeling the ridges of his tongue lap up the rough speckles of death gravel rolling over your–now stimulated–nub. With each line brushed over your sensitive mound of nerves, your chest heaved upwards in pleasure, and you could feel the thick liquid of his spit and your pleasure dripping out in long strings. He was bringing you so close, your mind began emptying into a curiosity of just how incredible he was at this. The overwhelming need to release was crashing over you, beating at you every second, trying to bring your hips closer to his face, enjoying just this moment of pleasure wrapped in panic. 

His teeth grazed the profile of your cunt, nose dipping into the very tip before pressing back.

“Where. Is it?” his voice was quiet, more warm breath to your heat than anything audible. Your body was begging for his touch, and your mind was crumpling–begging–to give in as long as he kept touching you. You felt the outermost sensation of his tongue pulling up your clit slowly before drawing it back into his mouth. He was just giving you enough, just enough to beg for him. He grazed over you a third time, when you finally gave in.

“It’s on Hosnian Prime!” you shrieked finally, “the base is there! Please!”

He raised himself to gaze over you, thick fingers digging into the ash, the slightest pull of a smile threatening his face as he began to speak. 

“Who’s disgusting now?” his hands trailed gently down your face, raising up slightly under your neck and turning his palm up, “Betraying your own people, writhing under a murderers touch, you break so easily,” he curled his fingers in on themselves, the blast shot crushing into a hundred embers on your chest and you winced at yet another new pain, “they knew you were a useless waste of a human, it doesn’t take a Force ability to see that. They knew you would speak, and now look at you, begging me on a table of slaughtered Resistance fighters.”

He passed along more blood with one hand, as palms smoothly made their way to your entrance, as two long, leather digits pushed inside of you coupled with the sandy texture clawing around your rim. He was scissoring his index and middle finger, widening you while curling the tip of one and grazing over your nerves. Your hips bucked against him, the middle of your back creating an impression on your skin from the table as you arched further into his hand. Becoming frustrated, he threw his body back down, his tongue meeting the other side of that sensitive flesh, dancing across it with fervor while his finger sped inside of you. The feeling was almost too much, you felt your body convulsing faster than it should have, and you couldn’t tease your climax in the slightest. Your moan caught half-way into your throat, walls milking his fingers, sucking the bloody ash he deposited further inside. 

He never gave you the breathing time to be emotionally struggling, and you shook to get his tongue off of you in your overly sensitive state. He replied by dipping into you further, and you felt tears well up around your eyes, the stinging pain of a second orgasm coming on too fast. Your mind wasn’t crossing the wires to give it pleasure, only the raw feeling of contractions while you were knocked sideways again in your climax, screaming this time against his fiery mouth which had begun to suck at your clit. He was resounding low praises into it as it was released, just to draw it back in, not allowing you the recovery needed again. 

“Stop!” you were screaming while your ducts began draining tears just as fast as they were created, your body moving away from him in a reflexive manner. He stalled you there with his hand, paralyzing you against the ash of his enemies, as he tortured you into your third wave. Your chest began hiccupping with sobs, the discomfort from your pleasure being forced out of you was incomprehensible. He must have decided you had enough at one point, his fingers finally releasing themselves in your drowned cunt, while he trailed his fingers back up to your neck.

He was looking at you, praising his own work quietly at his success of how wrecked you were. A small pool of his drool and your own fluids gathering on the floor underneath you, with one side of your face colored red from your wounds. Several burn marks chipped at the sides of your face, porous openings forming from the hot ash underneath you and rounding to your chest where he crushed the burning laser onto it. 

“I’m going to take that little pussy of yours and destroy it,” he hung on his last words sadistically, pulling you off the table and onto his lap, “that’s nearly all you’re useful for at this point.”

His hands began grazing over your face, stopping at the marking the blaster made on his face, the pad of his thumb digging in to open the wound back up, his other hand pushing your body down by your shoulder into his bulge. He was tearing all of your integrity apart, while you moved your hips against him and let out a high-pitched whimper. A rough push from his massive palms and you were shoved off of him 

“If you want this, you will beg me for it,” he stared at you like an unworthy animal, “come nightfall when I get those co-ordinates for the Resistance base from you, and I’ll decide then if you deserve this cock.”

He raised himself back up, swiping his helmet in the process. The door slid open and you were greeted with two Stormtroopers, raking their eyes over you, while this deliciously demented figure strode out the opposite way.


End file.
